Firewall
by Psychedelic1993
Summary: A rogue phoenix is terrorising New York, and the Leandros boys are hired to take him down a peg or two. Whilst investigating they meet a woman who is far more involved in this than she would like. And just to add insult to injury, there's a new breed of auphe in town... This is little more than a draft at the moment, so feedback is more than welcome.
1. Chapter 1 - The Library

The library was probably my favourite place in the world. It was quiet, and I didn't look completely insane with my massive fortress of books. I'd tried going to central park, but sometimes the weather turns, or drunks come about, and that leads to the destruction of priceless antiques.

My books, the stuff of legends. Of course, I had a few medical encyclopaedias too, but most of my books were the ones with bios of every single supernatural creature under the sun. I relied on this information wholeheartedly, and I was sure it was reliable, given the fact that most of the stuff had been written by the creatures themselves. You could tell by the bragging tone…especially in the gratuitously lengthy tome detailing the life of the dreaded puck. If there was one thing I didn't want to know, it was the mating habits of the horniest race on earth. However, it was still emblazoned in my mind forever.

I was perusing a paragraph about the best way to spot a wood nymph without it spotting you. Why I needed to know this, I wasn't sure, and it turned out someone else didn't get it either. He almost gave me a heart attack as I suddenly felt warm breath on my neck, and for a moment my hand flickered bright red, and considering the situation, that was remarkably mellow.

"I need that book." Right. Not only was he being a creepy creep thing, but he was also trying to steal my book. I didn't use library books if I could avoid it, they always got so worn out. I trusted my little gems, and only them.

"Sorry, this belongs to me." I said in return, my tone even as I turned to face the man. Well, that was odd. I sincerely doubted he would want to handle anything outside of the children's section. He was a lout, maybe not entirely illiterate, but still certainly more of a TV nut than a bookworm. Yet, here he was, asking for my book that had words even I didn't understand. Not to toot my own horn, but I knew a lot about a lot. I'd spent years of my life studying the mythical and medical, so I had a right to think myself at least a little bit learned.

Unfortunately, my short explanation didn't seem to appease the scraggy haired, leather wearing thug of a man. "Yeah, but I really need that book." He persisted, much to my amazement. "Or, a couple pages of it."

Enter creepy thug number two. "Sorry, is he bothering you?" He asked, far more sedate than the first one. But, he was still tall and muscular and generally scary. He also wanted my book. I was not amused. "Could we just borrow it for a few minutes? We'll have it back to you as soon as we've copied a few pages."

The choice was not mine. Although the blonde appeared intelligent enough to speak instead of get into an altercation, the first one seemed far too angry and agitated to just talk things out. I wasn't the bravest woman in the world, and so I just handed the book over wordlessly, glad to see them walk away from me. A part of me didn't even care if I ever got my book back, just so long as they left me alone.

That was not to be. The two men soon returned, and now they both looked decidedly wary. I just stared at them, wondering if my green eyes would deflect them. That would be one cool super power, and unfortunately, it wasn't one I had. They sidled up to me and proceeded to flank me without hesitation. Now I knew I was trapped, and I couldn't think of one thing that I could do to escape. Or at least, not something that wouldn't kill hundreds of innocent people.

My heart jumped into my throat as I felt the steel of a small dagger put to the back of my neck. I was also surprised it wasn't a gun, seeing as that was what everyone in New York had, but apparently these guys were different, not to mention more sensible. A gun was easy to see, not to mention hear, a tiny little knife, not so much.

"Are you working for Ignatius?" The black haired man growled, not mincing his words at all. I wasn't surprised. However, I was extremely surprised to hear that name again. It was one I had buried deep down inside myself, and now it was being thrown back at me again.

My answer came in an unconvincing murmur, "No. But, nothing." Why would I reveal something so personal to them? I barely understood it myself, and I reckoned the first admission of even knowing Ignatius would grant a whole barrage of extra questions.

As it happened, they were going to question me further anyway. To be honest, it wasn't any surprise, for one I was one of the worst liars known to man or beast, and second. Well, there was something off about the moody one. I wasn't about to ask what it was, I just wanted to get away from it. So, I told Tamsin to stay calm, took a deep breath and listened.

"Just save us the time and admit it." Why couldn't blondie step in? He was so much more normal, in every sense of the word. "You stink of fire, you just happen to be in the same library as us, with very well near the only translated copy of the book we need, and you know nothing? Right."

This time the one with hair longer than my own spoke up, raising a good point, "The only reason to bring a book as priceless as that to a public library would be to draw someone out of hiding." He was good. He was wrong, but that didn't mean his deductive skills weren't brilliant.

Now, to set them both straight. "I come here pretty much every day, just ask a librarian. I can't concentrate at home, so I bring everything here." There, plain and simple. I didn't live in a great neighbourhood, and so the sleaze of the place, as well as the noise put me off, hence the trips to the almost silent library.

"I don't buy it." Of course he didn't. I'd omitted the part about why I had that aura of fire around me, just as he had neglected to explain why he had despair and psychosis written on his face. We were both as deceptive as each other. Well, not quite, because I chose to come clean.

"I'm a phoenix. Well - half phoenix." Before I could continue, the pale skinned angst master dove right in with a painfully predictable:

"Wait. A person fucked a bird? How the hell does that work?" The story of my life. Sure, I'd told only two or three people, but everyone always had the same thing to say. It was annoying, though probably not as annoying as it could have been had my parents actually been man and beast. They were human, both of them. Not an ounce of anything else anywhere. The phoenix came later.

I eventually closed my eyes, sighing deeply as I fought to stay calm, "No. A phoenix was trapped inside my body when I was born, when it escaped -" I cut off, biting my lip sharply as I recalled such pain it was almost other worldly. That sort of thing didn't really leave you, "I died, he brought me back, left some residue behind." There, not too hard.

That did grant me a few seconds of silence, as apparently those two hadn't expected that story. They probably didn't get why I was so forthcoming with the information, or how it was possible at all. Maybe I'd tell them, if they'd just get rid of that damn knife.

"That phoenix wouldn't happen to be Ignatius, would it?" Wow. Someone was on his game today. It was the blonde one, with the plait, pulled so tight I did wonder how many wrinkles he would have if he unclasped it. No matter, it was a silly thought. I simply nodded in return, careful to avoid smashing my neck into the blade, that would be quite a humiliating way to go.

"Look, I don't know what this is about, but I can assure you that anything Ignatius has done - I don't support him. He's mad." I knew better than anyone, I'd felt it seeping into me before we had finally parted ways. It had been a bitter parting, but a necessary one. I needed to spread my wings, so to speak. "If I can help, just ask and I'll do whatever I can."

It was the best I could offer them. Maybe I should have been more loyal to a being I had shared eighteen years of my life with, but I wasn't. A part of me despised him for the pain - both physical and mental - that he had caused me, but a larger part just felt sorrow for everything that had happened since he broke free of my body. I was partly responsible, I knew that, but still, I knew how dangerous that phoenix was, and I wasn't about to let him run rampant.

The two men seemed to be deliberating, judging by the slight tension that gave and released in the blade. But, soon enough there was a decision, shown by the removal of the knife and the dragging of chairs to my table. Good. I was glad I wasn't going to be murdered.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Past

I wasn't surprised that the paler of the pair kept his weapon in his hand, clasped incredibly tight in a fist that was so obviously well practiced. He didn't trust me, and unlike most people on this earth, he was more than willing to protect himself should I inexplicably launch over the table at him.

The second was far more serene. So far as I could tell, he was unarmed – but then again, appearances can be deceiving. He was probably just as deadly as his vicious companion, perhaps even more so. But none of that mattered, they had at least given me a chance to explain myself, and so I would kindly ignore their looming intent.

"I don't know what's going on, honestly. But I can tell you everything I know about what's motivating him. But, it's quite personal – so could we at least be on a first name basis?" My speech was anything but confident. The words came out in a stuttered rush, something that probably didn't encourage trust. Having said that, maybe I was such a mess that they'd just take pity on me. It was a nice thought to have, even if it was entirely naïve.

Thankfully, the cold in the immediate area did loosen its grip slightly, as the taller of the pair introduced himself. "I'm Niko." He paused, waiting for his companion to speak up, though it was not to be. The second was far too busy giving me an icy stare that was perhaps even more off putting than simple animosity. "And this is Cal." The first finally said, his expression passive.

"Right. Tamsin, pleased to meet you." Well, that was a blatant lie, but it was a familiar greeting, and therefore comforting. I'd need all the comfort I could get if I was going to get through this story without blubbing.

With a steadying intake of breath, I did my best to give them the lowdown on Ignatius, fully aware that they probably wouldn't believe me anyway. "Ignatius was murdered, a long time ago. Thousands of years if he's to be believed. And all that time, he's been harbouring resentment for the world. Add to that his frustration over not being able to find a host, and there's the beginning of what he is now. Are you aware of the limitations of phoenix regeneration?"

"The host must be capable of carrying the dormant phoenix to maturity. As far as I can tell, almost any species can serve this purpose, but I was under the impression that humans were not robust enough." He was measuring me, watching for any minute flicker in my expression that might indicate my guilt. "And I also thought the host body is taken over by the phoenix upon his emergence. So, do explain yourself."

He was good. Niko was more than brainy, he was logical and sharp. Why he chose to hang around someone who was now looking as flabbergasted as I was, I didn't know, but there had to be a reason. Maybe Cal was his hired muscle, it was certainly possible.

"An accident of birth. Nothing more." I shrugged, wishing I could leave it there, and knowing full well that I couldn't. "I was born a healer, so everything that he destroyed, my body repaired – or tried to. I was ill the whole time." That was a horrendous understatement, but I wasn't out for pity. "As for how I'm still alive, it's the same thing. When he was releasing himself, my body just fought him, and totally burned out. A dead body was no use, so he jumped to the next nearest thing. A pooka."

The faces of the pair were poles apart. Cal clearly had no inkling what a pooka was, and was impatient to get this over with. He was tense and alert, and obviously so, whereas Niko was probably just as well prepared but not showing even a twinge of anxiety. He also appeared to know what I was on about, which was helpful to save the least.

"And he healed me. It's not tears, just plain old skill, and a much stronger power than I could ever hope to achieve. And I suppose that's it for how I'm still alive."

Niko responded curtly, "Alright. What is the rest of the story?"

Of course, why would he even acknowledge the absurdity of what I'd just told him? I knew just how mad I sounded, even to the likes of him, but I still wished he could have shown some form of acceptance, or even denial. As it was, I intended to carry on speaking. In a way it was therapeutic. I had lived so quietly for so long, it was sort of nice to make a bit of noise, to let someone else in on the bumpy road of my life, even if they were strangers.

"Rather than explain it all, do you know how phoenix' are said to return to their natural shape?" It was merely a theory to most, but Ignatius believed it wholeheartedly.

Niko nodded. "There is a ritual. In return for the lives of an enemy and loved one, the phoenix will become a fire bird again."

"That's bullshit, and you know it." And Cal spoke again. I wondered If he was capable of speaking without an insult or swearword in each sentence.

"Well, yes. Maybe it is. But to Ignatius it's real. For the past four years he's been searching for his killer, and if he's been doing enough to get the attention of outsiders, he's probably found him." He'd created destruction before, killing innocent people, and hopefully the odd bad guy, but he'd never stuck around to watch it all unfold.

Cal spoke up again, "So why in the fuck is he blowing up the kin and their meals on wheels?!" He was apparently exasperated, and now I was confused.

"What's the kin?" He might have face palmed if he hadn't been worrying about being ready for attack, but as it was he simply offered a terribly derisory look, followed by a clipped explanation.

"Werewolf mafia. Your buddy has been fucking them over royally." He smirked slightly, apparently finding this amusing. "He's been killing all the homeless guys he can get his hands on, and anyone that gets in his way."

I wasn't aware that the mafia was even a real thing in humankind, but given werewolf pride and personality, I had to suppose that a mafia in their society wasn't all that farfetched. I chose to accept this little nugget of information, feeling that I really didn't want to know any further details. I also knew exactly why Ignatius was messing with them.

"He's trying to draw me out. I've been homeless myself, so when I was free of Ignatius, I thought I'd try and give back to the community. He's waiting for me to come to their rescue." My tone was not as candid as it had been. I felt a torrent of guilt coming on, accompanied by a smattering of self consciousness. It was foolish, but we women are not known for our rationality in the face of emotion.

"Why would he be flushing you out?"

A brief thwack to the back of Cal's head accompanied, "Think about it."

And rather later than was perhaps normal, it dawned on him. "She's the second sacrifice." Had I been a bit more judgmental, I might have mocked him for it, but as it was I only nodded, even if he had so rudely referred to me in the third person.

Now that the bones of my story had been told, and these men had what they needed, there was an awkward shuffling on my part as I attempted to muster the courage to ask what on earth they were doing fishing around for this stuff. I could see no reason for a pair of humans to even know this mess of a world even existed, and yet here they were. I hadn't yet decided if they were the good or bad guys, but they were certainly key players in this city.

They stood, Cal's knife disappearing into his jacket with a practiced movement that was just another reason to fear him. He had his back turned instantaneously, apparently forgetting that I was even here. Niko was far more polite, pausing long enough to give me a chance to stumble over my burning question.

"Won't you tell me who you are?"

Not a flicker. "No. Thank you for the information, it was very helpful."

And off he went to join grumpy pants. Well, he got points for efficiency.

With them gone, and with a hundred unanswered questions, I sat stock still, going over the extremely one sided conversation over and over again. I inwardly shouted at myself for being such a doormat, vowing that next time I would at least get some information of my own. Of course, that was a moot point anyway. There wouldn't be a next time.


	3. Chapter 3 - Encounter

Some time later I had sufficiently gathered up my thoughts. I was still reeling ever so slightly, but I was at least able to get moving. The evening had come around, and I supposed it was time to think about heading to the cockroach infested box I so laughably called my home. It was really no wonder I spent so much time out.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and so it was that I carefully loaded my books into a decidedly scraggy messenger bag, praying that today wouldn't be the day the strap gave up the ghost. It was about as close to gambling as I ever planned to come, and I'm ashamed to admit that in days gone by it had actually provided a sort of thrill. It was pathetic, but believe me, when you've experienced near death on a daily basis, a tiny risk is more than enough to satisfy that inner daredevil.

Moving swiftly on to less embarrassing things – I walked briskly through the streets of New York, a place I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was nice to be involved in the buzz of the place, whilst always maintaining the anonymity that also provided a vague sense of safety. But at the same time, it was far too much to handle at times. Small town girls find it so damn easy to get lost in these places, and I was no exception.

The journey took an average of half an hour – the last ten minutes or so usually spent rushing past potential muggers. Although I knew I could handle myself, I had no desire to end up doing so. I'd been living here for almost a year now, and not once had I employed my peculiar talents. I intended to keep that up.

Now, the building in which I lived was not what you'd call modern – or hygienic. The hallways smelled distinctly of urine and vomit, along with other bodily fluids that I didn't particularly want to think about. There was also the issue of the aggro between neighbors. I'd learned a lot of unsavory words since moving in here. But, on the plus side, I was fairly certain that none of the people here were part of a drug cartel. There were lots of users, but all in all they were the same as me. Just your average Joe trying to make it in a cruel world.

There was one other positive point. The elevator worked. It was a near miracle, given the fact that the owner wasn't exactly known for his stellar job maintaining the building. The only time anyone saw him was when the rent was due. No surprises there.

So, I used said elevator, and made it to the eleventh floor in one piece. It was merely musty up here, as it seemed the drunks emptied themselves out on the first couple of floors – lucky me. My apartment was at the end of the hall, conveniently situated next to the fire escape. I really did hope I wouldn't be needing that.

The apartment itself was comfortingly bland, free of any real personal touches or nicknacks. There was no deep psychological reason for this, it was just that I had no physical objects that had any significant sentimental value. Of course I had certain favorite books alphabetized among my collection, along with the odd CD that I'd picked up along the way, but no photos of bygone days.

My evening was the same as anyone elses. I dumped my bag unceremoniously on the rickety coffee table, and spent the evening curled up on the charity shop couch watching bad television. It was surprisingly easy to relax, despite knowing that my past had come back to haunt me. Of course I thought about it, but there was nothing I could do immediately, so I instead rolled various ideas around passively, waiting for the right one to jump out at me.

The following morning I did all the normal human things – waking up late and attempting to do three things at once in order not to be late for work. Apparently dollar alarm clocks aren't the most reliable. Luckily for the clock in question, I did make it out of the door on time.

My place of work was one of the many nondescript establishments that served all manner of greasy foods and calorie laden beverages. It was relatively clean and all above board, which made a change from the majority of places in the area. Perhaps it was down to the old woman that ran the place. She struck me as the sort to follow every law she could, be they set by the government or her God. No surprise that the son and cook followed religiously in her footsteps.

The Doyle Diner was just a few blocks down from my apartment, conveniently situated opposite a new residential development that was providing most of their business, aside from the church the Doyles frequented. It was a shame that sooner or later it was the new build that would inevitably destroy the diner.

"Morning Charlie." I offered as I popped through the door, seeing the middle aged, podgy man in his customary spot at the end of the counter. As usual, no customers yet. I didn't understand why his mother insisted on opening so early, but hadn't the heart to broach the subject with her. It was opening bright and early that gave me this part time work, so selfishness got the best of me.

He gave me a nod from behind his paper, acting as if I wasn't there at all. He wasn't a talkative chap, he barely even communicated with his mother, so I just went about my business. I snatched a gloriously ugly mint green apron from the row of hooks, slipped a pad and pen into its pocket and sat neatly on one of the stools (also mint green), setting about waking myself up with some gravelly black coffee.

There were two customers in the next three hours up to ten am. One was the usual passing business, and the other was something unsettling. Charlie had already retreated to the kitchen when the predator walked in, and I very nearly yelled for him when I caught sight of the wily eyes that I was sure had just been trained on a very naked me.

It was only a few seconds after he'd walked straight past me to sit in a booth that I realized I hadn't heard him come in. Nor had I heard the characteristic squeaking of the plastic seat as the well dressed man sat down. And now he was just gingerly perusing the menu with what looked like a good deal of distaste. Maybe he was just an exceptionally quiet, quite probably lost man.

With the thought of Ignatius being around, I couldn't quite shake my ill feelings, but I soldiered on with my duties, refusing to be incapacitated by what could only be described as a minor oddity. I continued with the usual routine, finally getting myself in gear with a pot of fresh coffee and a mug, making my way over with only a slight stiffness in my step.

"Would you like some coffee, or anything off the menu?" I was fairly sure my smile appeared genuine, although my eyes were most likely giving away a touch of worry. In any event, he offered no hint that he had noticed my unease.

Tangled green eyes met my own, far less impressive ones, and a truly amused smirk had no trouble touching these. "I wouldn't mind some tea."

"I'll have to check in the back, but bear with me." I responded slightly more rapidly than was necessary, making a swift exit before I was driven mad by the intangible feeling of danger surrounding this man.

I had only been gone a few minutes, and returned triumphantly with a box of tea from the storeroom, only to find that the lone customer had disappeared. The initial relief was short lived, as I noticed the little note on the table.

Upon further inspection I was left baffled, but slightly reassured. It simply read 'For the trouble' in a neat script that was elegant, flashy but not in any way overstated. Beneath the note was a hundred dollar bill. I'd never seen one of those before. And it was this that allowed me to write the whole incident off as one eccentric man with too much money and time on his hands.


End file.
